


Vita Mia

by williamastankova



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Art, Boy Love, Fluff, M/M, Sabriel - Freeform, Super lovey, Sweet, The softest thing I've ever written, man love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 23:17:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14412618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamastankova/pseuds/williamastankova
Summary: Gabe has always had a soft spot for this exhibit, and he thinks it's time to show it to Sam."In a room full of art, I'd still stare at you"





	Vita Mia

Art galleries were not their thing. Sure, Sam enjoyed thinking deeply about what things could mean, but at the end of the day it was just paint on a canvas, not pain on a person. On top of this, he couldn't understand why Gabe had insisted on this specific ornate gallery, in Europe, in the most expensive part of Roma. None of it made sense, but Sam going with him seemed to make Gabe immensely happy.

For weeks leading up their actual going, Gabe was like an exciteable bunny rabbit. He was unusually nice to Sam - not that he was unkind usually, but something was massively different. Something about him had shifted, but whatever it was Sam didn't comment; he liked it too much. He selfishly enjoyed Gabe tending to him, giving himself, listening to his stations, talking about his favourite things and his feelings, and he selfishly didn't want it to end. He loved Gabe, no matter his form, mood, or anything else that could potentially change with the wind, but this was absolute, eternal bliss. With Gabe.

They had planned to visit the gallery on May 2nd, for Sam's birthday. It was an extra-special trip for his present, and a general perk of having an archangel love. Sam had no idea what to expect, and eventually crumbled, on April 29th, and asked Gabe what he was planning to do; what was so special about this place? Gabe only smiled at him, honey eyes glistening, and told him there was an exhibit he wanted him to see. Apparently, it had been there for a very long time, but it had always been Gabe's favourite, and Sam would just have to wait and see.

Sure enough, May 2nd rolled around, minor customary birthday traditions were had with Cas and Dean, and they were on their way. In a flash, they had crossed an ocean, and were in a nearby alleyway, and Sam could see the top of a colossal marble building peeking (towering) over the rust brick wall. The ornate, stain-glass windows were identical to those of a cathedral, which Sam thought briefly could relate to why Gabe enjoyed visiting there, what with him being an angel and all. This, however, was only a fleeting thought, and he soon found himself needing to say something.  
"Wow," was all he could say. It was breathtaking itself; he could only imagine what treasures it held. He looked into Gabe's eyes and found utmost delight, "It's beautiful." He leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to the archangel's forehead.  
"Glad you like it, Samsquatch," Gabe replied, simultaneously in his usual cocky form, yet vulnerable and nervous at the same time, "Let's head inside, hey?"

They quickly slipped from the alley and joined the other pedestrians. The road itself was incredible: immeasureably long and wide, with cars flashing by that seemed like something out of a 50s movie. He couldn't believe he was really there.

Soon enough, they were walking through the manor-house doors of the gallery, and Sam inhaled deeply, seeing numerous flawless marble statues or various gods, some of which he recognised, some he didn't. The history nerd in him lit up, and he couldn't help but speed up a little to admire some pieces of artwork. One depicted a porcelain woman, with her face, hair, and eyes drained of all colour, but her red lips overly-saturated in a way that was only breathtaking. Half of her face hid behind an extraordinary bouquet of roses, hydrangeas and more than a handful of other flowers Sam didn't know the name of, but thought were astounding nonetheless. Another painting showed the sun and the moon with long, elegant bodies, with their limbs entangled in an embrace that Sam saw instantly was romantic. It was a promise of 'I'll never let you go, my extraordinary' that he had seen only once before, ever, in his lifetime. He figured Gabe, what with his many years, had seen it thousands, millions of times. He moved on.

The next image was of what Sam recognised as the Eiffel Tower, despite never having been there himself. The colours all slipped into one another, their fingers intertwined, and wrapped around the pure-gold Tower. They carressed each of its sides, claiming it, and staring out warningly to any surrounding trees that dared try to come between them and their love. Sam had noticed the running theme in the paintings: they were all of love, in some way, shape, or form. They all spoke to him, each in their own ways. One of mother nature cradling her green-and-blue baby reminded him of his mother, how he knew she loved him, even if the first time they met properly was when he was teetering on forty. He didn't just see - no, he felt the adoration in her eyes: the sort of thing only witnessed in the eyes of mothers and in the outstretched arms of happy babies. It was beautiful. Sam smiled wider and reached for Gabe's hand, gripping it firmly - lovingly. They moved over and saw the next image. It took Sam a moment, but...

The image depicted two lovers. Two men, to be specific, and was clearly ancient, belonging to eons before his birth, even if it was near enough impeccable, cared for and cleaned with the hands of an angel. One of the men stood the other, resting his head atop the other's, and had his eyes shut. His small, ski-slope nose turned up, almost vertically mirroring the curve of his smile. His long hair fell shaggily over his strong, broad shoulders, and his hands claimed his lover: one reached over his shoulder and rested on his pectoral; the other kept a loose but present grip on his bicep. The shorter of the two, whose top of his head came to the chin of the other, stood languidly, loosely, relaxed, eyes also shut. His head hung forward, chin almost on his chest, but his shoulders pressed back. The small of his back tipped forward ever-so-slightly, and he left himself completely at his mate's whim. Had he chosen to, the taller man certainly could have crushed the smaller, but he didn't. Somehow, Sam knew he never would, because he loved him far too much. Even if he betrayed him, even if he broke his heart and smashed it into pieces right before his eyes, the man would always love him. It was the kind of love that nothing could break.

Though he had looked in-detail at the image - at their positioning, their body language - Sam still felt like he was missing something. Something big, so he looked deeper. He scoured the image, noticing two golden feathers floating to the floor in the bottom left of the canvas, and something clicked, somehow. His eyes darted back up the face of the small man: he saw his golden hair, swept back behind his ears; he saw his strong - albeit smaller than the other's - shoulders and his toned core. He noted his sharp nose, his perfect lips. Sam stole a quick look to his left, to his own lover's profile, and found the identical image.

A loud noise went off, whether in his head or in real life he didn't know, as he realised. His eyes dashed up, catching sight of himself, stood behind painting-Gabriel. This was it. This was them.  
"Gabe," he spoke in a gallery-appropriate tone, "is this... us?"  
Gabe's smile returned, soft this time. "Mhm."  
Sam smiled uncontrollably and exhaled in jest, but then he furrowed his brows in confusion, "but how?"  
"Because we're meant to be, Sammy." Gabe replied, "Always have been, always will be." He smiled, eyes radiating the same aura Sam had been seeing the entire time they had been in the gallery, looking at the paintings.  
Sam nodded. He knew it, really. He didn't really have to ask, though he had to admit it was nice to hear Gabe say it. It was futher confirmation in his mind, and that was good. That was excellent.

Wordlessly, he released Gabe's hand, instead opting to step backwards, moving swiftly to stand behind him, resting his chin on the crown of Gabe's head, allowing his hands to mimic those of him in the painting. He had to admit, also, that this was an excellent position, he hoped for the both of them. Nobody looked at them, and nobody seemed to notice they were even there. This was nice. This was perfect.

And, though Sam usually hated his birthday, marking it as just yet another year older - another even riskier year at that - he had to admit this wasn't so bad after all. Just him, and his archangel. Then, now, and forever.


End file.
